Moments of a Courtship
by Peacharwen77
Summary: These will be scenes in a 17 year period of Thranduil and Erumar's courtship. You may get to know Erumar in my other stories if you so desire! Many of these scenes will also feature Tauriel, as she plays a major role in Lasgalen.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I needed to RE-upload and change Chapter 1 because this one came first chronologically! So enjoy the new chapter 1, everyone. :O)

* * *

The flakes of white were cascading down, the thick blanket of snow on the ground growing deeper. It was quite a blizzard, and the horses needed to choose their way with care as the wind was blowing steadily, causing deepening drifts. More than once Thranduil had noticed one of the horses stumbling into a pocket unseen, forcing rider and mount to catch themselves. He watched the thick flakes gather in Maltan's fair mane and along his golden ears. The palomino shook his head once, and that drew Thranduil's gaze to the other horses before and around him.

Despite the darkening twilight, he could see his people clearly. They had spent little more than two months shoring up the Easterlings for winter and preparing them to begin rebuilding near the Sea of Rhûn. It was time well spent, and the Gondorians who remained were well-established. Many of his own people had also stayed, knowing that more supplies and aid would come when the weather broke in the spring, which was soon to come. Winter had come early and it appeared that it might cling to the North as it had not in many years. But he could see his people were glad to be heading for home; they had been following the Celduin for many days now and had branched off to follow the Forest River for most of the day today. They were nearly within the borders of his Kingdom.

 _Perhaps I should be thinking that it is time to find some shelter until morning…_

It was light laughter that distracted him from his musings of shelter and made him attentive to a pair of riders a little off from the main group. The shock of red hair he recognized immediately, but the laughter was Erumar's. He observed her tossing her mane of dark hair, a grin on her face as flakes tumbled from it and more flakes tumbled into it from the sky. In a sea of his fair-haired kin, the two of them were glaringly obvious, different, though Erumar more so than Tauriel. Tauriel belonged to these lands in a way that he could never have explained, never expressed. But Erumar…she was a breath of fresh air in the twilight of the winter storm.

Her grey-blue cloak flowed over her shoulders and over Rûnving's chestnut flanks, and he could not help himself for once more thinking that she was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. There was no denying what he felt when he was around her. She made him feel _alive_ , _awake_ …for the first time in an uncountable amount of it. Even to be here, simply watching her, taking in the moment of her gentle laugh with Tauriel, was a privilege. He was grateful to be a simple witness. These past three months at least had been full of doing for her and had left less time for thinking and dwelling. This had been very good as what had come before required the passage of time for healing. She still blamed herself; at times, he could see it, but there was nothing that would heal that wound but time…ah, time. He knew all too well about the supposed healing of time.

He shrugged a half-inch of snow from this shoulders and heard the rapid crunch of another's mount catching up beside him. He turned to see one of his lieutenants, Eldarn, riding alongside him on his tall grey. Eldarn had taken up Fânrim's position, as the other lieutenant had agreed to stay and become captain and director of supplies to negotiate among the Easterlings. He was grateful for this, as he had always found Eldarn to be of stable mind and character, though the loss of Fânrim's wisdom was a blow. He always had to come back to the encouraging thought that at least Tauriel remained…which was more of a blessed relief than he cared to admit to himself.

Eldarn reached down and brushed snow from the grey's dark mane. "I do not think I have seen so much snow at one time in all the ages I have lived, my Lord," he said, admiring the falling flakes.

"No," Thranduil agreed, "not in many years, and even so it was outside of our realm. There is much to be said about such a blizzard."

"It is beautiful."

Thranduil was silent as he pondered that for a moment. What _did_ he think of the snow? Normally, whenever he saw it, his thoughts came to dwell upon his long-dead wife for it was her namesake. Most things that made him think of her he did not like, but…his good memories of it were slowly making their way back to him. He had lived many years and had experienced much snow; he should have had many fond memories of it. He found that when he could focus on something other than the loss, he could see the memories more clearly.

"Indeed, it is. When the sky clears and the snow ends," Thranduil added, "the trees will have more beauty than they do now, and you shall be able to see hundreds of them with clarity." He smiled. "That is where the true beauty lies. Inches of snow clinging to the edges of branches, glittering in the sunlight."

"I look forward to seeing it."

Up ahead of them, snow tumbled unexpectedly from an over weighted branch, dropping directly between Erumar and Tauriel. Rûnving half-spun in surprise, where Tauriel's buckskin remained steadfast as the two women laughed, Erumar leaning forward to stroke the sorrel's neck. Thranduil watched her handle herself and then returned his attention to Eldarn.

"I was thinking that perhaps it might be good for the horses to take some shelter. At least until the wind dies down."

"We are not far from the borders," Eldarn said, and his brow furrowed as he thought. "I do not know where we might—"

"I am sure that we can find a hospitable copse of trees," Thranduil replied with a smile. "Perhaps we should spread out a bit and see what we can find?"

Eldarn nodded. "Perhaps we shall find a cave that shall fit all of our horses."

Thranduil shook his head. "I do not think we could enter a cave so large without something _inhospitable_ trying to eat us."

"What an adventure that would be," the elf replied with a laugh. "I think I shall pass, but I shall tell the others what to look for." He began to turn aside but then Thranduil remembered.

"Eldarn!" he called, and the man pulled up the grey. "There is an old guard shelter here, somewhere if we can find it…just outside the borders of Lasgalen, if I am not mistaken. It has been a great many years since I have had reason to locate it. Perhaps we can find shelter there if it still stands."

"Large enough for the horses?"

"It had a stable. It was large enough for a small contingent then, and that is all we are."

Eldarn nodded, though he looked doubtful. "Hopefully, we shall be able to _see_ it as we are riding. If this blizzard would let up for a moment or two, we might."

"Tell the others to keep their eyes sharp."

Then, Eldarn did turn away, and Thranduil began more purposefully scanning about for the building he was remembering. They needed to give the horses a rest, and being within the warmth and dry of a shelter would be better for all.

The trouble, of course, was that every few seconds he was distracted by the laughter of the two women who rode before him, and he could not help but wonder what confidences they were sharing.

* * *

Tauriel grinned to herself as Erumar laughed aloud.

"Oh come now!" Erumar laughed with tears in her eyes. "You are too serious to have done anything of the kind!"

"You do not know me well enough yet, Erumar," Tauriel replied, raising her eyebrows.

"I know you better than you think," she stated. "There is not a drop of silliness in that mind, Tauriel." She smiled at her and raised her own eyebrows. "I have been told that I am an excellent judge of character, and I believe I have a good read on you."

Tauriel rolled her eyes. "Well, perhaps I exaggerate a _little_. Perhaps I did not cover his entire room with snow, but…I did carry in an entire bucket-load and dump it all over him. I promise you, that part is not exaggerated!"

Erumar laughed again. "I bet he loved every minute of it."

"Well, not at first," she admitted. "Legolas was still asleep, and was quite furious until he chased me outside and realized that it _was_ beautiful and that he needed to enjoy it."

"How old were you? You must have been young." She laughed softly again. "You are _still_ young."

Tauriel looked down, snow catching on her eyelashes as Erumar studied her face. "I _was_ young, but not as you may think. I was old enough to be reprimanded, and old enough to know better, and _certainly_ old enough to not entice someone to play in the snow, but…" A little smile came on her face. "He _did_ play in the snow…for a little while. We made some sort of snow creature that I remember well."

"Legolas is quite playful," Erumar teased. "I can only imagine that he could have played for hours."

Looking over into her face, Tauriel smiled wistfully. "I did not know the same Legolas that you have come to know, Erumar; that you lived with for three years. Legolas was at times playful, but it seems that meeting Enguina has brought him more life than he had ever known when I knew him. There were moments when I had…tried to bring that out in him…" She shook her head as her words faltered. Erumar gave her a knowing look.

"But you were discouraged."

Tauriel blushed and looked away again, off into the darkening sky filled with whirring flakes. "I would not say anything against my Lord," she said softly. "He is different now also…and both are for the better, changed for the better. Legolas by Enguina…and…my King, well…the change has been more gradual for him, though his trip south brought it more quickly."

Erumar nodded slowly, thinking, watching the much younger elf. It was clear that there were years that weighed heavily on her. "How long have you…" she hesitated for a few seconds. Perhaps it was not her place, but she and Tauriel had become friends and she should be able to talk with her frankly. "How long have you been living to please him?"

Shock cut across Tauriel's face, yet she could not bear to look into Erumar's. "Leave it to you," she murmured, "to pierce to the heart of the matter."

Erumar reached out and brushed her arm with her fingertips. "Please forgive me," she said immediately. "I know you care for him immensely. Perhaps even more than you know. I can imagine that he was not an easy person to live with."

"You have no idea," she said, her voice still hushed. "There…is nothing that I would not do for him…or his son. I rebelled once…twice…both times with terrible consequences." Erumar watched her eyes close as she breathed in once and exhaled slowly, a long quiet sigh. "Things were hard, difficult. Now, more recently, things have been better."

"You have grown close."

"Closer than we have ever been," she admitted, "and still we are learning… _I_ am learning."

"You are like a daughter to him."

"That was not a question."

"No," Erumar agreed. "I know it is true. Sometimes, as parents, we are afraid to allow our children to make decisions of their own that will cause them to fall, fail. Sometimes it is because we know how it will turn out; sometimes it is because we _fear_ how it will turn out. Because of this, we can make choices to be sterner in areas where we should show more kindness, more freedom, more compassion."

"You speak from experience."

"I raised four children, two sons, two daughters," she said. "Sometimes, my husband and I had arguments over such things. Your parents died when you were young, and Thranduil had been on his own for many years by the time you came along. Yes, I am sure none of it was easy." She frowned. "But I am sorry that this has been your experience."

"I am grateful," she disagreed kindly, her voice still soft. "He has helped shape who I am; I can be nothing but grateful. And my separation from Legolas has helped him to meet someone for whom he cares very deeply. For that, I am even more grateful."

"Yet, you miss him. He was your closest friend for many years."

Tauriel nodded. "I do miss him, but he has been…he has been gone for some time." She tried to smile at Erumar. "It is not as though it was yesterday that he left. He was gone for many years and then returned for a little while…then he traveled again and returned for a brief time, and then again. I have learned to be…more independent." She tried to make that sound positive. She was not in love with Legolas, but she did miss his company in so many ways.

Erumar returned her sad smile. "Well…I hope I can bring you some company."

This made Tauriel's smile true, and she reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You already have been. I am grateful for that, too."

"I have learned that being alone and independent is not always ideal… _and_ not always healthy."

Tauriel nodded. "I have felt the same, though I could not help it. Many times, I wanted to be alone, and the King was often alone as well. Yet, now he has you visiting with us. His people are glad you are here, and those in Lasgalen are looking forward to your coming as well." She looked over at her again. "Do you think that Legolas will come and visit us again someday? Bring his babe with him, his wife? I know that is something that would greatly please the King."

"Oh, I think he certainly will. There is no doubt that he will make the journey though I do not know when, and Enguina would be thrilled to meet you. From what I had seen during the time we were all together, Legolas and his father were getting along splendidly, nothing as it once had been."

"I have not portrayed him as I should," Tauriel said, seeming suddenly embarrassed by her part in the conversation. "I do not wish to give a false impression of my Lord Thranduil."

Erumar laughed. "Oh Tauriel, there is nothing you have said that I had not already suspected."

"I do not wish to…" she hesitated, and then decided she had best not speak aloud. She did not want to tell Erumar something that would make her want to leave, that might turn her gaze from him but perhaps those words were best left unspoken. "Do not listen to me, Erumar. You are a good friend for him," she said, turning her face away again. "You lighten the load he has borne all these years."

"I have found," she replied softly, "that he does the same for mine. Yes, that is why I am here, Tauriel. To see Lasgalen, to spend time among my own people again. It has been…too long. And that is not even a hundredth of the time he has spent carrying the weight he has."

"Lothlórien has long been without light and song, so the tale goes. Have you been missing it?" Erumar lowered her chin for a moment against a particularly fierce gust of wind which blew snow into both of their faces, and so for a moment could not answer. It was quite a wind, and Tauriel was surprised to find that in the back of her mind, she yearned for a fire. She reached down to rub the thick shaggy hair on her gelding, Gliranor's, neck. "It is quite chilly out here, my steady friend," she told him.

"Ooo," Erumar agreed, " _quite_." She shook her heavy mane of hair again, snowflakes dumping out of it. "It would be nice to be inside, even if it _is_ beautiful."

"I was thinking about fire a moment ago."

"Now _that_ would be wonderful, even if I am not cold. Though I suppose it would be easier not to _talk_ about fire…"

"Well then let us return to my question," reminded Tauriel with a laugh. "Have you been missing Lórien?"

"I reminisce about it from time to time, what it used to be," she replied. "I miss the woods and all of the beautiful light. But…I think there were too many memories there, and it became so weighed down in memory that I…" she hesitated. "That my heart simply could no longer take the burden of it. I was always so sad, so heartsick…but part of me could not leave." She looked over to Tauriel, whose face was solemn. "Now part of me never wishes to return. Can you understand?"

"Yes."

"But I also could not go to the Grey Havens, not after discovering that Enguina was getting married. I could not leave without attending the wedding, and then we were invited to remain with them and help build their home…and one thing led to another."

"And your heart is not as full of weight as it once was."

"There are moments."

Tauriel nodded. "Yes, I know that feeling."

Rûnving and Gliranor both halted with such immediacy, their ears pricked forward, that it jarred both of their riders to the pommels in surprise. Eldarn suddenly appeared in front of them out of the blowing snow, barely visible as he waved to them.

"Captain, my Lady, we have found a place that we are going to halt for a few hours. The King has found a hiding place for us just off to our right." Tauriel turned and looked, just as Erumar did, and noticed there was no one behind them.

"Did we get ahead of all of you?" questioned Tauriel, concerned. "Were we very far off the path?"

"Not very far," Eldarn admitted, "though you were straying a bit. I did not mean to startle you, but I believe that is why you did not hear us when I called."

Erumar shook her head, laughing. "Lead on, Eldarn. I am glad we have you around to bring us back."

He smiled. "Come this way. It is not much, but it will make everyone and the horses dry and out of this intense snow for some time."

* * *

The fire was beginning to burn low, but Erumar did not want to turn in with the others quite yet. They had all finally begun to take some rest a little more than an hour before. Upon finding the shelter, the evening had been filled with tales and songs, and it had been good this night to be taking the time to enjoy the last leg of their journey. They were a wonderful group of elves, she would even say friends after spending so much time with them, and the food and company had been good.

Now, as she was looking into the short flames, she was glad. Their mats were scattered about, Tauriel's closest to her and nearest the fire, her red hair shining even more brightly in the reflection of the flames. Erumar studied her, thinking of their conversation from earlier. It seemed there was no person alive that she knew that did not carry a burden of some kind. She wished, as she looked at the young elf before her, that Tauriel _was_ innocent and carefree, that she had no secrets to run from, that her parents had not been murdered when she had been so young, that she had not carried the weight of Thranduil's dead wife all these years, that she had not carried the burden of love that could never be returned. And she wished for her, prayed for her, in that moment that Tauriel would be blessed someday with love as Aragorn held for Arwen, as Legolas held for Enguina—oh, how she prayed for it. She deserved better.

When she lifted her head from her silent prayer, her sharp eyes noticed that Tauriel's shoulders were trembling. Concerned, she leaned over beside her, studying her more closely; even the young elf's hands were visibly shaking. Was she cold? Was she having a dream? Erumar could not be sure, but she did not feel like waking her. Instead, she took the woven blanket that laid across her own lap and knelt down beside her. She opened it up and carefully laid it over her, covering Tauriel's shoulders, hands, and upper body with it, gently shifting the top until it sheltered her so that if it _was_ that the elf was cold, she would be toasty beneath it. Then, thinking that it would be good to keep it warm within the shelter, she laid another log into the fire, watching it flare up once again and the fire begin to grow.

Lifting her gaze from her position on her knees, she saw a shadow near the opening where the door to the shelter had once been. Broad shoulders, tall…she knew that it was Thranduil, and realized that she could not remember when he had left the circle that the elves had made around the fire, but it had been more than an hour or so ago. She wondered what he was up to, or if he had simply been craving solitude—that she could understand at times. She was growing drowsy in the firelight, and perhaps it was because she was nearly ready for sleep that she did not wish to rest without wishing _him_ good rest.

Returning her gaze to Tauriel, she noticed that the shoulders beneath the blanket were no longer shaking. With a smile, she reached out and stroked her fingers gently along her forehead and down her cheek. She rose silently and, slipping around two mats with sleeping elves upon them, made her way to the silhouette in the entryway.

Thranduil was facing outward, studying the night, snow still falling fast, several more inches on the ground since last she had looked. His piercing eyes seemed to be studying where the horses stood within their shelter, all of them resting and asleep, warm in the rundown building. She took a place next to him, but she did not study the snow or the horses as he seemed to be doing. Instead, she admired him for a moment, standing so still and quiet, handsome in his long cloak. She opened her mouth to speak, to greet him, to say something, but he turned his head slowly to look over and down at her, his eyes kind and the edges of his lips turned up into the beginnings of a smile.

"You are a mother," he said softly, "even when the child is not your own."

She smiled back at him; he had obviously seen her covering Tauriel. "We all need a mother sometimes. But yes, I often find myself, as the oldest of my friends, slipping into that role all too often. Mostly by accident."

"You must have been an excellent one," he told her seriously. "I can imagine that your children are all wonderful, _good_ people."

"They were," she admitted, "but that was not all of my doing. Ilúvatar was good to us, and I never had to worry for them doing something that was not 'good.'"

He smiled. "And Tauriel can no longer claim to be the youngest."

"No," Erumar laughed. "No, that is true. The babe _must_ have been born by now. Congratulations, Adariar."

His eyebrows rose and he gave a sigh. "I have never given thought to being called by that name."

Erumar smiled. "Now you can give it _lots_ of thought. I have been thinking about them; many times over the past days I have sent silent prayers for them…for all of them. That things are well, that they are all safe and sound."

"Perhaps there will be tidings waiting for us in Lasgalen when we arrive," he replied hopefully.

"I hope her labor was easy."

Thranduil shook his head. "Are these things ever easy? In my experience, no. I am sure that Legolas was a disaster no matter what."

She laughed softly. "Oh, I do hope he was there for it. I left before he had returned to Minas Tirith, and Enguina was concerned every day that he was not going to arrive in time."

"He had journeyed without her?"

"To visit Gimli."

"Ah," he said, nodding, "of course. Well, Uncle Gimli weighed him down with toys and many gifts for the babe, I am sure. Dwarves are known for such things. Perhaps I will have to send something as well, when I am able, as a present from his 'Adariar,' as you say." He avoided speculating whether Elessar had healed, whether the Evenstar was well, avoided any subject connected with Elessar altogether; she need not be thinking of that all night long—as it was she thought of it enough, he was sure. He had been annoyed with Tauriel when he had found out that Elessar had vanished into the night, but she had stated her reasons for helping him depart. She could not very well stand in the way of love. As irritated as he was, he could not argue with that.

"She spoke of you earlier." Erumar's voice came from beside him. He glanced back down into her face.

"Hmm? Who?"

"Tauriel." It seemed Erumar was reading his mind if she was thinking about Tauriel as well.

"Oh." He nodded slowly. "I am certain that all of it was terrible."

"You would be wrong."

He smiled. "She has far too much grace for me then."

"Oh, that is undoubtedly true. But she was honest," Erumar said, laying a hand on his arm.

He sighed. "Then it _was_ not good. In the past, I have been a complete ogre," he said, looking down at her hand. "I should be ashamed of myself. I _am_ ashamed of myself." He admitted the last. "I have been trying to make it up to her. Change is…not easy. She deserved, _deserves_ better."

"She does not blame you, you know," she told him gently. "She probably understands more than you think."

"Oh, I _know_ she does," he said with a humorless laugh. "And that is why I do not deserve her. Not even the way she honors me, respects me—"

"Loves you."

"Even so," he said. "She has lost enough herself, but I was blind to everything for so long, I…forgot everything about everyone except myself. I have been working hard to change it. But even in her understanding, she remembers how much I have hurt her. One should not forgive so…so _much_ wrong, Erumar, over so long. But I can spend the rest of my life making it right if I choose to become that man."

"Yes, you can," she told him earnestly. "We all change."

He smiled at her. "Indeed we do." He tilted his head in the direction of the snow. "On to a much more serious subject: how are you enjoying the blizzard?"

"It snowed us in enough for us to make a fire," she said, acknowledging his changing of the subject with ease. "The fire was very pleasant."

"That does not tell me anything about your love or hate of snow," he chuckled. "I was probing for information and you have ruined my sport. I suppose I should assume that it leans toward hate."

"Oh," she said, blushing at his incredible honesty, "no! Not at all! I think it is beautiful! Now, in the evening even more so." Her eyes shot up to the sky as she waved a hand towards it. "And the sky has cleared, the stars are stunning."

"Yes, it is beautiful tonight. It makes the snow shimmer. It was once my favorite time…because she loved it." He said the last softly, knowing that Erumar would understand to whom he was referring as he reflected on why he had enjoyed winter so much, and why he had not enjoyed it in many years. "I have never looked at snow the same way again."

Erumar thought about the snow as he spoke. She had only good memories of it, as most of the time when it was on the ground she remembered her children playing in it. Her memories of Haldir were kept at bay by the fact that he did not feature in the snow memories—he had never enjoyed the snow, being wet, and had never been considered 'playful.' He was nothing like Enguina, who had always loved such things and who had always helped her with her children when they were young and played with them.

"Snow is usually a safe thing for me to think of," Erumar admitted. "We never were able to spend much time in it."

"No," Thranduil agreed, "I do not imagine Lórien had much snow; at least not with the Lady present. You must have gone to the borders to have seen some."

"In Rivendell, we were able to enjoy it, when I was younger and Arwen and I could build things with her brothers—even though they were older than we were, and I was older than her. Even there, it was a more moderate clime." She studied him a moment, and he looked at her in her silence. "Is that what has made you melancholy tonight? Why you did not remain around the fire?"

"I _was_ thinking of her," he admitted. "But that was not why I left the fire and came out here. I came because I wanted to think."

"Should I leave you to it, then?"

He shook his head. "No, my dear," he laughed. "I have thought long enough. Walk with me, instead? Where we can see the stars better?" He offered her his arm, and the two of them walked out on the snow, stopping in the midst of the snowfall to look up into the night sky. Erumar stared up, closing her eyes for a moment as she laughed at the flakes landing on her face. But then she opened them to watch the snow fall among the moon and starlight and sighed, enjoying the moment.

"Yes…this _is_ beautiful," she heard him whisper.

Thranduil was not even looking up at it, transfixed as he was by the sight created by the perfect flakes catching in her raven hair. She did not see him staring at her, or if she did she gave no sign, so she could not see the conflict behind his eyes. He had been thinking so hard about Glosvana tonight, moments they had shared in the dark of night, in the snowfall, in the wee hours of the morning when he had taken her in his arms on a blanket before Legolas was born and loved her until they had no strength left. He was not wrong to be thinking of Erumar, to be drawn to her, to be thinking her lovely, to find her presence soothing; he knew it was not wrong, but it yet made him feel that the memories and this newfound friendship should be separate. He remained at war with himself. Turning his gaze up, he stared into the night sky as she was.

"Yes, it surely is," he agreed again. "Is your preference for the warmth of the fire? Or the beauty of the snow?"

Erumar was silent, thinking, as she turned her head to study him, looking at the little smile on his face. She could tell that he was probing for information again. "I think it is the snow. Fire can be calming, but the snow…there is something peaceful about the flakes striking the branches, the snow falling from the sky, almost like stars. And the way that things melt and come back to life. A new beginning, new birth, new life. Those things I look forward to when winter is drawing to a close."

"Yes," he said. "All of those things are true." He lifted a hand and gently laid it over the one on his arm, and suddenly his hand was wrapped around hers and he was tugging her to face him.

She saw the alarm on his face and her heart stuttered. "What is it, Thranduil?"

"Your hand is like _ice_ ," he said, concern written all over him as he cupped her hand in his large ones, trying to warm it. "Your fingers are stiff, almost frozen."

"Are they?" she asked softly, and she looked down at his hands covering hers, brought close to his chest as he rubbed her fingers. She lifted the other hand and studied them for a moment, surprised to find it difficult to flex them. "I had no idea," she murmured as he reached out and took her other hand in his and brought that one to his heart as well.

"No idea? They are stiff from cold. We should go in by the fire," he added, worried, "and warm them before you have frostbite." He began to take a step, but he was tugged to a stop when she did not move as he was.

"No, Thranduil," she countered, "I do not want to go inside just yet."

"Not—? What do you mean?"

Erumar shook her head. "I do not want to go inside to the fire. It is too beautiful out here."

"Erumar, your hands—"

"I will be fine." She began to pull them back to her but this time, he held fast. "Stop," she said, trying to pull again. "I do not wish to—"

"If you are to stay out here," he gently interrupted her, "then please, at least let me warm them. Erumar, they are _so_ cold." He lifted them both to his lips, cupping them in his own and blowing warm air onto her hands as he rubbed them with her looking on, studying him. "I have no idea how you could not realize they were freezing."

"I was not paying attention to them," she said, her gaze still lingering on him trying to warm them. "I wanted to enjoy the sky, not think about being cold."

As he rubbed her fingers, he could feel the trauma on them. It was the first time he had really held her hands. He had touched them for a few seconds as he took one to draw through his arm, or felt them through his sleeve, but this was the first time he had held them in his own for any length of time. Much of the skin was too smooth, revealing old injuries of some kind. As he rubbed his thumbs along her palms and the edges of her fingers he could feel the scars from old wounds. Not for the first time, he wondered at what had happen to cause her so much pain; for these exacting wounds would certainly have been painful.

He blew into his hands cupping hers again, this time several times together, beginning to feel that they were warming to his ministrations. He eyed her casually over their joined hands, her gaze still on them. "What happened to your—"

"Thranduil, no," she whispered, her eyes meeting his as she shook her head, "that question remains out of bounds."

"Ah yes," he replied sheepishly, giving her a little smile, "I keep forgetting that I am not supposed to ask. I will try to do better. So, tell me instead about a safer subject that I am permitted to discuss. We were speaking of spring. Is spring your favorite season then? Or is winter?"

"It _would_ be spring," she admitted, her voice still soft. "There is just so much to look forward to in spring that the snow does not hold enough of my affections." Her eyes were drawn once again to the way he was rubbing her hands and she finally, but gently, began slipping her hands from his. "They are warm enough now, thank you, Thranduil."

Clearly, he had been enjoying rubbing her hands too much, and she was self-conscious about it so he easily released her, clasping his hands behind his back. He smiled at her. "You are, of course, welcome. Perhaps we should not remain out here too much longer or your hands shall turn cold again. Though, I suppose I could simply warm them again."

She smiled. "I am sure you could." But she still did not feel like turning in to bed yet. So she said instead, "I suppose spring is also _your_ favorite season. Especially with your garden, I mean."

"Oh, undoubtedly," he replied. "I am rather sorry that you shall not see it for several months yet, but that cannot be helped."

"But I _can_ see it now, in winter," she said. "You surely would not have me wait all that time."

"Oh no," he said, shaking his head, "no, no, no. You shall have to wait until springtime. It would be so wrong to show you now."

She stared at him. "You are teasing me."

"No, I am quite serious. There is nothing to see if you go now. Mid-April perhaps."

He looked down at her and she raised her eyebrows at him. "You will make me live in Lasgalen for all that time and never see it?"

"My dear, it is only three months or so."

"Thranduil—"

"And what of it, even so? It will make your visit longer perhaps, hmmm?"

She rolled her eyes then, sighing exaggeratedly. "I am not _going_ anywhere, Thranduil."

He smiled. "Good. Then you can be patient, yes?"

"Ugh. I suppose." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are frustrating."

"Oh come now, think of what you shall have to look forward to." He extended his hand for hers and he once more threaded it on to his arm as he turned her to go back towards their shelter. Her hand was cold again, and so he left his covering it.

"I do not believe that there is nothing to see," she insisted.

He laughed. "And why is that?"

"You are a master gardener," she pointed out. "You have been doing this for _ages_. You would never have a garden that did not have winter flowers."

He gave a long sigh. "Fine."

"What is fine?"

"You may see the garden."

"I knew it," she said triumphantly. "I _knew_ you were not serious." She heard him laugh. They halted just inside the entrance, out of the reach of the snowflakes and she turned to face him. "What sort of flowering plants have you for winter?"

"Daphne, hellebore, holly…even witchhazel."

She raised her eyebrows. "That sounds beautiful."

"I shall take you there within the first week of your arrival in the Greenwood."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You shall promise?"

"If nothing else, I am a man of my word."

Suddenly, she smiled. "I am satisfied then."

He laughed softly. "I am glad to hear it." Behind them, Thranduil heard soft steps upon the floor, and he turned to see one of his bowmen coming up to meet them. "Good evening, Beriath."

"My Lord," he said, and then bowed his fair head to Erumar, "my Lady. It is my watch, my King. I was coming to take my post."

"Of course," Thranduil replied, extending a hand to indicate the elf should pass them. Beriath moved into the entryway, bow in hand, as Erumar and Thranduil moved further within. Thranduil clasped his hands behind his back again and smiled down at her, the red-glow of the firelight on her face again. "Well, I suppose this is good evening," he said in hushed tones, due to all of his sleeping kin. "Time to take some rest."

She smiled back at him. "Indeed. I hope you rest well." She finally said the words she had been intending to say since she first went to him. He bowed his head to her.

"And you, my dear."

He watched her as she sidled around a few mats and came back to the fire. He watched as she lovingly confirmed that Tauriel was sleeping peacefully and as she slipped another log into the fire. He watched as she sat upon her mat, pulled off her boots, and then laid down on her side, facing the firelight. He watched her a few moments longer before he prepared his own mat, and stretched out on his back, knowing that he would sleep better now than he would have had he spent the evening on his own. And fall asleep he did, his thoughts focused on imagining what her expression would be when she finally laid her eyes on his garden.


	2. Chapter 2

The door closed behind Erumar with a gentle click as it settled, leaving her in the two rooms that would become the home that she would enjoy for as long as she chose to remain in Lasgalen. The front room itself was spacious and nicely laid out; she could not say pretty but furnished with good taste. Studying it, calling it hers for the moment was probably a bit too much but it suited her for now. Moving forward and into the adjoining room, she was immediately taken in by the stunning craftsmanship in the woodwork around the room itself and across the dresser and bedposts and headboard. The dresser was covered with acorns and oak leaves, while the bed carved with leaping deer and a flowing stream. She reached out and laid a hand across the throat of a stag and studied it before eyeing the rest of the room. _This_ was a beautiful bed. Slowly, she lowered herself to sit upon it and at once experienced a vast sense of comfort. That was more than she could have said since the moment she had set foot in Lasgalen.

Perhaps that was a _bit_ unfair, if she were honest with herself, but she was often not as honest as she should be. She had expected Thranduil's home to have as overwhelming a presence as he had, and she had not been wrong. From the beauty of the place to the enormity of it, she was taken in by it. None of that should have bothered her after living in Lothlórien; the Lady's presence enough at times would engulf you if you were not careful. But this was something else…something much more personal.

Yes, if she had admitted it to herself when she had encountered Fânrim and his troop of bowmen when they had first introduced themselves and discussed knowing of Haldir, she could have said that she had noticed it then. But she assumed that it was nothing of any real importance; simply their reaction to a meeting of another of their kin. Instead, as she met more and more of Thranduil's people, she could see it in their welcoming faces. Each one, delighted to meet _her_ ; each one, interested to get a glimpse of the elf from Rivendell through Lórien…the elf whom for some reason every one of them had decided they were going to accept and appreciate…the elf, it was rumored, who had captured the eye of their King.

She should have _known_ that such a thing would happen, and undeniably make her uncomfortable. Oh, not Thranduil, of course, _he_ would never put such a thought among his people. In fact, he would be downright upset if he knew what all of them were thinking or saying to one another. But of course everyone would see it that way. Thranduil himself had not invited someone to the Greenwood in thousands of years and for him to do it was so unusual that everyone within his kingdom wanted to meet her, speak with her. She was instantly liked, instantly praised even as she walked away from being introduced by Gieled, the guard who had shown her to her quarters and given her a bit of a tour on the way. Every single elf introduced to her clearly agreed with whatever they had heard about her, knowing that without a doubt she was exactly what they had hoped for when the rumors had begun. And Gieled had announced that he would return to show her around more fully after she was settled in and rested, but she was beginning to feel that perhaps today would not be the best of days for it. Already, she was feeling crowded, hemmed in, and awkward. The guardsman was right: it would be best if she could just...take some time to calm down from all of it. Though he could never have understood why.

* * *

Time passed, and she had no idea how long she sat there stewing in her uncomfortable thoughts before she was startled out of them by a knock on the door. An inward groan filled her chest; she was not ready for Gieled to return for her, even though she was unsure of the time and in fact, she had only come even more firmly into the resolution that she was not ready for any of this and just wanted to be left alone. Rising then, with every intention of turning him away in kindness, she came out of the bedroom and crossed to the door.

So she was quite shocked when upon opening the door she was face-to-face with not Gieled, but the much taller and completely unexpected Thranduil.

"Good evening, my dear," he said, bowing slightly, and she forgot to respond as she took him in for a moment. He had changed from his traveling garb and was now dressed in a deep pine-colored tunic that made him simply… _breath-taking_. Should that term be used to describe a man? Yet there was no other word that would come to mind and physically, it was true. She could think of nothing to speak to him, staring at his long hair as he began to straighten up to face her again. He smiled at her. "Have you settled in? How do you like your quarters?"

She mentally slapped herself and, embarrassed, finally forced herself to respond to him. "Good evening, my Lord. The room is beautiful, and so is your home."

"Has Gieled been showing you about?" he asked. "I suspect he would have shown you some of the place on your way."

"I was grateful," she replied, nodding. "He did show me a bit of it, and I met many of your people already. They are happy to have you returned."

He smiled. "Yes, they are good people." She smiled back and suddenly stepped back from the door; he took her in with his eyes as she did so, fully aware of the abrupt movement and the way she looked away from his eyes. The better time to look at _her_.

"Forgive me, my Lord," she said, blushing, "did you wish to come inside?"

"Um…" His distracted reply brought her head up to meet his eyes as he continued, "No, in fact. I came in the hopes that you might wish to take a walk with me. It is later than I had hoped to come, but returning does require a bit of settling in."

"Of course, Thranduil. I did not expect to see you until at least tomorrow," she added honestly.

"And leave you here to fend for yourself? Not having any idea where you are in a new place?" He shook his head. "I would never insult you in such a way."

"You are not insulting me," she insisted. "You are the King—"

"And _you_ are my guest," he stated, raising his eyebrows at her. "Therefore, permit me, my dear, to ask you if you would like to walk with me?" He saw her hesitation, and he assumed that he knew exactly what was going through her mind. "Come," he urged her. "I promise it will be worth it."

* * *

Erumar, hand on his arm, walked beside him, her blue cloak trailing across the snow. The moonlight was out in full now, the sparkling icicles shining bright along the trees near the forest river where they walked. They were on a quiet path down below the main bridge into the front doors of Lasgalen. In fact, the entire time she had been walking with him, she had seen not one other soul, almost as though it had been purposeful. It was so peaceful that her heart was finally beginning to settle from the arrival and business of the day.

"It is stunningly beautiful here," she told him, walking beneath the heavy-laden trees.

"And quiet," he added, nodding. She looked up into his face, but he was not looking at her, watching the river raging between sheets of ice. "It is a good place to be restored, to walk in the peacefulness of nature and enjoy it. Nowhere to be. No needs to be met except one's own."

"That cannot be for you," she said lightly, teasing. "You have many needs to meet."

"I did not mean me," he said, his voice gentle and he looked down into her eyes. His were so serious, so full of compassion for her that she looked down and away, embarrassed. "Today was more overwhelming than I had hoped for you."

She wondered at him knowing that. He had not been there. Had Gieled spoken to him? _No…Tauriel. It was definitely Tauriel._ She had been there for half of the tour and the meetings, and she would not keep such a thing from Thranduil, not for her sake.

"I am sorry for it," he continued. "One needs…time…to accept a new place."

"It was not the place," she murmured. "Your kingdom is full of beauty and light. Your people are a delight—"

"But they have thoughts of their own. I…" He shook his head. "I did not mean for their thoughts to trouble you. I wanted you to visit here, Erumar. I wanted you to come and free yourself of your burdens for a time. Lasgalen could have peace for you."

 _Because your presence is here._ She did not say the words; it was too early for them, and she often did not know what to feel—how to understand what she was coming to understand about them, their relationship with one another. They had been together again for nearly four months now and yet she was still unsure of herself, her place, her words, even her thoughts.

"I needed the quiet of this walk tonight," she admitted. "This place is so peaceful. It is as a refuge in a storm. I do not see myself in a storm, Thranduil…but I do need a refuge."

"I know that you have spent too much time thinking of what has happened these past few months, of what was asked of you, done to you—"

"What _I_ have done," she whispered, her face beginning to burn.

"No," he disagreed, drawing her to a halt. "You did nothing."

"Oh, Thranduil," she sighed, looking away from him and withdrawing her hand from his arm, "let us not argue. It was too peaceful here."

He caught her hand and turned to her, holding it between his own. "What happened with Elessar was not of your doing."

She shook her head. "Please, I do not wish to talk about it anymore."

"I know it is difficult for you to accept, but you must," he said gently, his voice low.

She was silent as he looked upon her, little flakes in her hair as gems, shining in the starlight. _Ilúvatar in heaven, she was beautiful_. She would not look at him, staring as she was across the other side of the river, the cliff edge and forest beyond, her eyes taking in the fresh, fallen snow where no one but a lone deer had trod.

"I wish…" she murmured, studying the shimmering beauty of it, barely aware that she had spoken aloud. "I wish I felt as clean, as pure as this snow…"

He frowned deeply and reached out and stroked along the back of her head, just once, to draw her attention. "You need to forgive yourself," he said to her, this for the fiftieth time since he had been with her the night she had attempted to seduce Aragorn. "You need time, Erumar. This place can give you that."

"This place…"

" _I_ can give you that."

She looked up at him, into his incredible blue eyes, his expression so serious, earnest. He offered her peace, and, for certain, something more… _always_ something more. The promise of life, of peace, of a lifting of her burdens, and perhaps eventually…love. He kept his eyes on hers.

"We have all the time we could want," he whispered. "There is no hurry. None at all."

"It may take all that time," she said honestly. "Every last bit of it."

"That is well enough," he said to her, and she felt his hand stroke the back of her head once more before he took the hand in his back to his arm and began walking with her again. She caught a little smile on his face as she heard him repeat, "We have all the time we could want."

"You know me too well already," she said softly, and she heard him chuckle.

"No, my dear, just well-enough I am afraid." He looked down into her face again, the moonlight once more shining in his very sincere gaze. "But someday soon…I hope to say too well."


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: The season of summer has come to the Greenwood. More to come, eventually! Thank you for your patience, and enjoy reading as much as I have been enjoying writing these characters!

* * *

"Ugh! The King is _insufferable_ today!"

That grumble of frustration was overheard by Erumar as she was walking past the door to the kitchen in the dining hall. It was here that many of the elves who lived in Lasgalen took their breakfast collectively; sometimes she dined with them, sometimes she dined with the guard, and sometimes she dined in Thranduil's hall which had a longer table but was a single room—which she presumed was made for more personal dining with the King and his family. After living here for as many months as she had, she had come to both learn and enjoy the ins and outs of the place, had come to enjoy getting to know the many people who had wished to get to know her. Though at times overwhelming, she was grateful to never run out of things to do and people to speak with. This was good for someone whose mind needed to remain occupied. Too much time alone was never a good thing.

But the words drew her attention and she paused at the frame of the doorway before coming into sight. She did not want to eavesdrop really, but she simply could not help it.

"It was not _quite_ that bad, Tilean. He only—"

"It _was_ that bad," responded Tilean hotly. "In a mood from the moment he came through the doors; he _came_ angry and he _left_ angry. Irritable beyond anything I have seen from him in months, perhaps even years! I simply do not know _what_ his problem was this morning."

"Something, or someone, must have stirred his ill-temper," the other voice replied in a more moderate tone. "Lately, he has been very reasonable in tone and manner."

"Well, I am uncertain what so affected him, but he was downright awful."

Erumar stepped back from the wall and frowned. Thranduil must have been in rare form today if even those who served in the kitchens were complaining about him. She wondered what _was_ affecting him so as she turned to leave the dining area. Walking past one of the long tables, she reached out and plucked an apple from it, continuing her walk toward the door.

As she ate her apple and walked through the haphazard corridors, she reminisced about the first month she had been here. It had not taken her too long to learn where she was going, but she had never seen a place more confusingly laid out. If an enemy were to attempt to figure it out, they would get quite lost within the maze of passageways, even though they were far less narrow and dark than she had expected. The longer she lived here, the more all of it grew on her, and she had liked it very much from the moment she had laid eyes on it. There was a beauty in it, in all of Thranduil's design, and she could see how much he loved the woods and cared for his people in everything he did. Yes, in many ways he was overprotective. That was evident in the manner of the guard and even in the building of this place. But it was made in a different _time_ —a time when there had been so much evil, a time when he had lost his father and been recovering from a battle with Sauron for Middle-Earth. All of life's events have an effect on a person; they certainly did on Thranduil.

She rounded a corner and nearly on top of her was Tauriel. She did not even have time to say her name or to greet her when the much younger elf collided with her. She had been moving so quickly that Erumar was knocked into the wall, but then immediately righted as she felt Tauriel's strong hands grip her upper arms.

"Oh, forgive me, Erumar!" she cried. "I did not even see you there! I was so distracted, I—"

Erumar laughed, waving her off. "Your head was down," she replied. "Neither one of us are hurt, nor is there any harm done! You certainly seemed lost in thought and in quite a hurry. How are you this morning?"

"Everything is fine," she replied. "Fine. And how is your morning?"

Erumar took the five-second opportunity that was afforded her in Tauriel's response and studied her face. There was an attempt at a smile, but it was distracted. Her eyes were red, as if she had been near tears and prevented herself from crying. This was a Tauriel that was distressed; something was the matter.

"It was quiet until I made my way into breakfast. Are you in a hurry this morning?"

Tauriel shook her head. "No, not at all, I—"

"How about we walk together, and then we can talk?"

Tauriel nodded, and fell into step alongside her, and although the much younger elf appeared confused, the two of them turned down the long corridor that Tauriel had just been walking up. Eventually, this passage would lead to the outside and let them out not far from the gardens. This was where she assumed Thranduil would be, which led her to believe that Tauriel's distress stemmed from the same source as the elves she had overheard this morning.

The red-head clasped her hands behind her back and closed her eyes as she wandered along beside Erumar, their pace much slower than when Tauriel had been coming the opposite direction. "I only just came from here," she said.

The statement fully confirmed what Erumar had deduced.

"How _was_ your morning…really?"

She sighed, eyes still closed. "It could have begun better, I suppose. Though it could also have been much worse, so…I decided years ago that I should not complain. I have _lived_ through many-a morning that was much worse, in fact," she admitted. "Forgive me, Erumar. I am rambling."

"I thought we were going to talk," Erumar reminded her. "You are not rambling."

"It is not my place to speak," she continued, and her pace slowed even more. "Perhaps you should just continue on your own. I am sure you can find your way from here."

"I do not ask you to come out with me," Erumar told her softly as she reached over and laid a hand on her arm, "just to walk with me if you would." Tauriel sighed but continued walking alongside her. "I know exactly where you came from. I heard some talk in the kitchen just this morning that the King was in quite the mood." She smiled knowingly. "It seems he has been taking out his aggression on everything that breathes. Has he been tearing at you as well?"

"I do not have the right to—"

"We agreed to talk, did we not?" Erumar pressed her gently and Tauriel sighed.

"It is nothing that I cannot handle. And…though I feel strange speaking ill of him at _any_ moment, it is especially wrong when it is unjustified. He cannot _help_ it, Erumar—"

"He cannot help a sharp tone?" she asked Tauriel softly. "No matter how we are feeling, we do not have the right to tear others' down with the words we use."

"The words he could help," she whispered, her voice thick before she swallowed and cleared it. "He cannot help the circumstance. I have known him for years; I know well enough to leave him alone. That was all he wanted, and I did not heed the signs. Usually, he is a little better later in the day, toward afternoon when he has had time to settle things in his heart." She shook her head again. "I _knew_ better, and still I did not listen. But…things had been so much better recently and I thought…" She hesitated, and Erumar wondered at her wet eyes. "Well, it matters very little what I thought."

"What have you known for years?" Erumar questioned her. "What is it about _today_ , Tauriel?"

"That _is_ where you are going, yes? You are going outside to see if you can talk with him."

"It is my intention to find him, yes," she replied. "Do you not think I should?"

Tauriel sighed. "Even if I were to tell you to leave him be, you would not; you would go to him anyway." She looked forward again toward the light at the end of the tunnel. "Perhaps that is just as well. He needs someone to sit with him that he cannot turn away, and he obviously does not want that person to be me. No, it cannot be me. He chases everyone away from him as fast as he can so that he can stew in the silence." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No, definitely not me, but perhaps you can better bridge the gap between him and the rest of the world. You are good for him; you can try to talk to him, attempt to crack the impenetrable shell with something more akin to an ice pick instead of a hammer.

"Who tried a hammer?" asked Erumar softly. "That does not seem like a gentle instrument."

Tauriel smiled wryly. "That was Legolas, of course. He simply turned Legolas away." She sighed. "He shouts at me."

"Shouts?"

"Snarls would be a better word. He digs in with his claws and…tears at you, to use your word, until you leave well enough alone. Or he has hurt you enough to chase you away for the day." Erumar looked over at her with compassion and saw that her eyes were wet, but there were no tears. But Tauriel attempted to laugh softly at the expression on her face. "Do not pity me, Erumar. Tomorrow will be better and he shall be contrite enough. I should have had more grace for him, knowing what today was. I speak out of far too much experience in these matters."

Erumar _did_ pity Tauriel. She did not know enough about her past to know all of the burdens that Tauriel carried, but she did know that it was obvious that Tauriel had been mistreated in many ways, many of them by Thranduil. Of course, all of the things that Tauriel had said only led to one possible explanation. Thranduil was grieving in the only way he knew how: using his temper to express his grief on everyone around him. She knew that in some way or another, today must hold some significance in his past with Glosvana. She knew that from _her_ experience.

"Tauriel, what _is_ the day? What is today the memory of? What is he grieving over; do you know?" she asked softly. The two of them drew to a halt at the entrance to the path that led outside to the garden, the sun filtering through the trees, two guards just outside. Tauriel turned to face her, sighing softly.

"It was the day he found her," she replied quietly.

Erumar wanted to ask her exactly what that meant, but perhaps it was better that she did not before she went to him. She was not certain exactly what she would say yet, but when the time came, maybe she would know. She did, however, understand why Thranduil was sending others away, but that did not grant him an excuse to treat his people with such disregard. If she were honest though, it reminded her of what she had done to chase away Enguina at the end. Aside from that time, their temperaments were so different that they had taken to lashing out in different ways in their grief: hers to hiding, his to hostility.

"When we were in Minas Tirith," Erumar began thoughtfully, "Thranduil and I agreed that when we needed to speak of those we had lost, we might walk in the garden in peace. We had agreed to do the same here; that at any time as we were walking and one of us decided to share, we would, but otherwise we would simply be an understanding presence for the other."

Tauriel smiled. "That is a very nice thought. Have you often been together in the garden, in the quiet?"

"In Minas Tirith we were, and in Ithilien, though that garden was much smaller and we ended up out in the woods mostly. Here we have only been there a few times." She nodded to herself. "His mind is more preoccupied here…and that has been good for him."

"Does it help?"

"To walk?"

"Together. Does it help?"

Erumar sighed. "Sometimes," she replied honestly. "Most often, he is the one speaking, and I am listening. I…do not have much to say."

"You will," Tauriel replied quietly. "Give yourself some time, Erumar. It has been only a few years for you, but several lifetimes for him. And he has been wanting to open to someone for a very long time," she added. "He has never found the right person…until now. He is more open with you, and I will be grateful for anything your counseling shall do for his heart. Perhaps I should not worry for him as I do, but I cannot help myself."

"You are as responsible for his well-being as he is for yours." She laid her hand on Tauriel's arm. "I will go to him, and walk with him or sit with him, even in silence. Sometimes, all is needed is a silent companion."

"I pray that he will, at the very least, be civil if he cannot be kind."

"Everything will be fine," she replied, squeezing Tauriel's arm. "I will handle what I receive."

Tauriel laughed and bowed her head. "I believe you can, Erumar." Since the very first days of knowing her, Tauriel fully believed that no matter what she was faced with, she would eventually adapt. Some of that adapting had been very difficult, but she felt that when applying that 'handling' to Thranduil, Erumar would excel brilliantly. "I believe you _can_ handle him."

Erumar laughed, too. "Perhaps that is an offensive term. If he ever heard us using it, I am certain he would be insulted."

"On the contrary," Tauriel replied, raising her eyebrows, "I think he would be inclined to agree."

"To which part? That he requires handling, or that I can do it?"

"Both," she affirmed. "Perhaps I will see you later?"

"Perhaps you shall see us both. Have a good day."

"Good day."

Tauriel nodded to her and receded down the corridor. Erumar, however, made her way out into the garden, her eyes scanning all the while for Thranduil.

* * *

Thranduil _was_ stewing; he felt as though his temper ebbed and flowed as a pot of boiling water, roiling around just beneath the service of his skin. He sat, temporarily, on a bench at the very edge of the garden nearest the woods and as far away from the entrance to Lasgalen as possible. At moments he remained there, and when the pressure, the urge, to move drove him to his feet he would pace back and forth between the closest rows of roses, always returning to the bench. He was on edge both literally, as in the end of the bench, and figuratively: eager for someone to take out his irritation on, eager for an argument; his spat with Tauriel this morning had helped to take the edge off and now it was back, brooding in his mind and growing like a shadow in the sun.

His hawk-eyes spun about as he turned at the rustle of fabric on skin, the brush of feet on grass, the sounds of a person drawing near, and immediately he turned back with a cold shoulder, his eyes darkening in irritation at the intrusion, his temper drawing him into the darkness of the shadow in his head.

 _What do_ you _want? Go away and leave me be._

"Good morning, Thranduil."

Three very calm words, from the lips of the person whom he knew he definitely did not want to hear a single word from just now.

"Is it?" His cutting words came out, unbidden, fierce and whip-like in retaliation. The words were meant to halt her; evidently his goal was to wound and send her on the retreat as soon as possible. " _You,_ perhaps, are enjoying a good morning in your common routine; a breakfast, a few social interactions, a little sunrise and in delight, you go about your simple day. Whereas I see _nothing_ good about it. Not _one damn thing_. No…there are no good mornings to be had here. Take them with you as you go."

The words were quite final, and he felt they were quite good actually. He had said them with such clipped precision that there was not one ounce of feeling revealed aside from cold pronouncement. Yes, they were perfect, and they should send her fleeing, which was just as well. Just as well that he should chase _her_ away; just as well that she would not wish to have one _damn_ thing to do with him, especially today—just like everyone else he had worked so hard to be rid of; _just as well_ —

He was taken aback as Erumar slipped onto the bench beside him; even though he tried, his face could not help but display seconds of momentary shock as she placed her hands in her lap. The edge of her lips curled up into a wry smile and one brow rose as she looked at his face.

"That was quite a speech," she said softly. "Do you rehearse that often?"

His eyes darkened to black and as his frigid control slipped for a moment, she caught just a glimpse of an incredible temper that could have been simply explosive. Seething, his eyes aflame, he opened his mouth to cut her to shreds. Just as his chin dropped, she slipped her hand between the hands in his lap and laced her fingers through his. She did not say anything to him, only lowered her gaze to the hands in his lap that now also held hers.

It disarmed him immediately.

Whatever retort he had intended was completely gone. Whatever words he had planned to spit out to slap her 'good morning' in the face had flown from his mind; the comfort of the feel of her hand on his own was enough. Shockingly, it was enough. Thranduil's eyes dropped to their joined hands as well, and the sudden tears that flooded his eyes made him turn his head even further away from her gaze, though she had no intention of looking him in the face just then. He was not sure if she did not look at him because she _knew_ , she knew he needed a moment to collect himself, or if it was because she was afraid to see his reaction—though somehow, he knew it was the former, not the latter. She was, if nothing else, completely unafraid of him. She would not have touched him if she was.

Somehow, he thinks, she is giving him space even as she is quietly invading it. It is a rescue of sorts…a feeling of knowing that he is not alone, even as he has tried to be. The moment is so moving that he cannot speak; that she has pummeled her way into this moment of his life, into the agonizing grief that he has felt and suffered _this_ day; every day, to be sure, but especially on this _particular_ day. She has made herself a part of his life, a welcome part that he had entirely forgotten until this instant. The transition from being alone to being with her had been something he recognized daily until he had woken this morning. Now, it has all returned to him.

His eyes shifted to glance over at her, and now her eyes were closed. He watched as nearly without moving she tucked her legs up onto the bench beside her, her hand still within his. He blinked, regaining the rest of his control.

"I did not wish to be found," he said, his voice soft and reflective, nothing like it had been moments before. He heard her sigh, and in her quiet listened to the quiet around him for the first time that morning; the birds' soft song throughout the garden, a gentle breeze that caused the leaves to shimmy. All of it drawing the scent of summer to Thranduil's senses.

"I know," she replied gently, and said nothing more, simply left her hand in his.

Slowly, the shoulders that had been aching with the tension of the day that had long begun before ten o'clock in the morning began to relax. Slowly, the headache that had begun since his argument with Tauriel receded as he focused on the singing birds. Slowly, his temper faded until all that remained was the ache that continued in his heart at the memories that the rising sun had brought.

Thranduil had no idea how long they sat there without speaking. It must have been some time though, because the shadows on the ground were changing from the movement of the earth and the sun.

He finally spoke, his eyes fixed on her hand in his. "I found Glosvana today."

He had not meant for the words to quite come out that way; he was not even certain she would _understand_ what they meant, and he was not sure if he cared if she understood. He just needed to talk; for the first time, he felt the need to tell _someone_ what he had felt that day. He had never had any urge to do so before, but the ache within him was forcing itself out. He just kept talking then, not babbling— _never_ babbling—but talking, in the same even, quiet tone, attempting to keep his emotions in check.

"With Legolas and twenty of my finest soldiers, I reached the place we had been tracking them. It was a horrifying place, an orc stronghold of the North. We had traveled over a hundred miles to find her, to follow their steps. Any foes we faced along the road were destroyed easily for I was so anxious for her. We could not be stopped; _I_ could not be stopped. I had never entered the fortress before, but when we arrived we slaughtered our way through as though we had been there a hundred times. I led the way through tunnels flooded with orcs, through the darkest dungeons witnessing the vilest acts of atrocity carried out within them." He swallowed hard, and he watched Erumar's hand tighten in his own. "I had been holding onto hope that we could reach her in time, but the farther we went, the deeper we journeyed, I began to realize that my hope was useless…pointless. I do not remember how long we were there, how many dead we left, _how_ we even got out of there…I only remember what I felt, what I saw after I opened that door.

"She was there, lying on her side, stretched out facing the wall. At first I thought she was dressed in strange clothing, but then I realized it was muscle and sinew I was looking at and that she was covered with and lying in dried blood…I saw red and filth and nakedness. Her beautiful, golden hair had been shorn off, her wrists joined with rope at the small of her back, her shoulders and elbows and knees disjointed at odd angles. I went to her side, unable to breathe from the smell of death—I cannot say how long she had been gone." His eyes closed in agony as the memory washed over him. " _How_ they had mutilated her, the way they cut her body with no respect for her life, how they had made her endure such torture, how she had _suffered_ …her face was…" His breath caught and he shook his head, thinking of the wounds and slashes across her maimed face and breasts, unable to speak the words aloud. He felt Erumar's other hand close around his as she shifted closer to him, her knees bumping his as she cupped his hands within hers; they were warm and comforting when he felt as though his were as cold as ice. Despite the summer heat, he felt chilled to the bone.

"I remember thrusting my hand out to prevent Legolas from seeing her, shouting aloud for Fânrim to stop him, and then gathering her broken body in my arms so he could not see her face…see what they had _done_ ," he choked out. "She had been _butchered_ , and even knowing that she was already dead brought me no comfort. She would never know that I had come; she would never know that I had come to search for her, that I had meant to rescue her and was too late. She had died in _agony_ …and utterly alone.

"I do not know how long I held her against me, her dead weight in my arms. I remember there was too much screaming…it was likely mine. I remember Fânrim telling me that we had no choice and that we had to get out; we were in the deepest bowels of that fortress and were going to need to fight every moment out of it as well as we had done coming in. Fânrim would tell you there was orc after orc slain in those four walls, but I did not see it; I had no eyes for anything but her. Due to the multitude of orcs we needed to fight and my… _complete_ loss of composure, there was…there was no way that any man could be spared to take her body when they were half-carrying _me_ out of there…and if we remained any longer we would never have made it out of there alive. And that…it was the last time I…I ever held her in my arms…"

His eyes were so full of tears that he did not think he could contain them, but somehow he managed to let the grief pour over him and not out of him. He felt the warmth of her near to him and tried to absorb it into himself through his hands, his knee; he could feel it radiating from the shoulder brushing his. A sudden urge to escape, to run away, overcame him but he shoved the feeling away, forcing himself to recognize her presence for what it was meant to be: a comfort, a help, a listening ear for his sadness and woe, and what he assumed was Ilúvatar's way of gifting him eventual peace.

Erumar's heart was crushed for him, her hands tight around his. She knew that whatever had happened to his wife had to have been horrible, yet this she could never have foreseen. When Tauriel had said today was the day he found her, she did not realize that was because Glosvana had been taken, that he had hunted for her. How had she come to be at the orc fortress? Had the orcs come to the Greenwood and taken her? She had suffered in ways Erumar could not even imagine and then _he_ had found her…and been forced to abandon her within that same fortress. Yet…as horrifying as the tale had been, Erumar was thankful for the opportunity to listen; knowing what he was experiencing in his head, in his heart today was important to her. She wanted to be able to help, to comfort, and she knew that sitting beside him right now and listening was the best thing she could do for him. Though she would never have thought that Thranduil would simply tell her the story, for _any_ reason, she was grateful that he had finally spoken of it. He had opened the door to his grief and let her step inside; it was a step she had never expected…and that _she_ personally could never have taken if their situations had been reversed.

"I am so sorry, Thranduil," Erumar murmured, her voice gentle.

"I remember the moment we came running out of that fortress," he continued. His voice now betrayed the emotion he felt, raw and full of pain; he could not contain it any longer. "I was half-dragged along still, I remember Legolas still firing arrows back into the orcs that had been coming after us, but I do not remember the way out. Fânrim told me on the return journey that the tunnels had been overcome with orcs, how it was a blessing we had all made it out alive. I could not…" he shook his head. "That was no blessing to me at the time. I wanted…I _wanted…_ "

"To be with her," she said tearfully.

" _God_ , yes," he said, choking on the words. "I wanted to be dead. I _needed_ to be dead so I…so I could tell her the things that I had not said, that I was _sorry_. I needed her to know that I had come for her, that of _course_ I had come, even after all of the things we had said to one another. I could tell her none of those things. As I was dragged from that stronghold, the sunrise struck my eyes, glittering golden and red, the light striking the clouds and fracturing as a fan against them—brilliant, _glorious_ even. And I thought in that moment…that I would never again see a sunrise and look at it the same way again.

"I was so full of grief, and then I was so angry, that every time I would think to speak to Ilúvatar, I would turn my back on him. At my lowest moments, I would beg him to take my life and then shun him again. I have since made some peace with him," he added honestly, and then his lips suddenly, miraculously curved into a little smile. "It was the coming of Tauriel into my life that made me return to prayer."

Erumar choked on a laugh at his words, but it sounded more like a sob. " _Oh, Thranduil!_ "

He raised his eyes from her hands to her face, even as she looked away, tears on her cheeks. "Do not cry, Erumar," he said gently, and she shook her head fiercely. "Why are you crying?"

"I cannot _help_ it," she said, lifting her head to look into his face. "For so long you had lived together, been her husband, do you think that she did not know that you loved her? That you worshipped her, as you told me when we first walked in the gardens of Minas Tirith? _Thranduil_ , an argument, no matter how serious, does not make someone forget how much they love. She _loved_ you; do not doubt it! Her first thought when in that place would have been for you, for Legolas…you both were _all_ she would have thought of."

His eyes were steady on hers. He sensed she was not going to wipe her tears away, even if she wanted to, unwilling to let go of his hands. He took matters upon himself then and slipped one of his own out of hers, reaching up to wipe away her tears. "Thank you," he said, "sometimes I can only think of the misery of her condition, what she would have suffered. What it must have been like to…to know that I was not going to come…that I was not going to be able to save her."

She took one of her hands and laid it against his face. He closed his eyes. "Do not think that way. Think that her thoughts were full of you and Legolas, that they were full of the joy of her family, and how much she loved you both. That is where her mind would have been."

She heard him sigh; it was low and sorrowful. "I want to believe that."

"I do," she told him gently, lowering her hand to cover his again. "I am sorry, Thranduil. I am so sorry for what happened to her, to your family, to you. That she had to suffer so much, and that you needed to endure it all."

"We all have…endured things…in our time." He said this as he studied her face, and she nodded slowly, meeting his eyes again.

"Yes, we all have suffered, but do not let that minimize what _you_ have suffered," she whispered to him. "You _found_ her, Thranduil, and then…to be forced to leave her like that…" Her eyes were still bright with tears. "And even in all the horror that you saw, you still thought to protect your son from seeing exactly what had become of his mother. Even in your own pain, you thought to have Fânrim stop him."

"Oh, he was so angry," he replied, his lips forming a thin line. "In the end, he would not speak to me because I did not let him touch her, let him get close enough to her. But how could I? I could not let him. If I had allowed him to do that…it would have changed him forever."

"It _saved_ him," Erumar said. "You saved him from the nightmares that you bore on your own. He did not understand then, when it happened, and how could you have explained to him when it was so fresh in your own heart? But now, so many years later, he must know that you were protecting him, shielding him." She attempted to smile at him. "Protecting others is something you do well. From what I have seen…it is a family trait."

"I could not protect Glosvana that day," he said, bowing his head again, his eyes once more settling on her hands surrounding his. "She had always been so stubborn, and we had…argued so fiercely that morning. She journeyed out on her own as I had told her not to do a million times. This forest…is not always safe. I hate it when _Tauriel_ does it as well. Once she had Legolas to go with her but now…" he shook his head. "And Glosvana would simply go on her own. She loved the woods so much; she was determined to see them the way they once had been, not what they had come to be as the shadow began to grow some time after the Last Alliance. Then she was gone and no one could find her…and then we tracked the orcs and the rest, well…you know now."

"Thank you," she whispered and he raised his head again.

"Thank you? For what?" he said, confused. "What have you to thank me for? It is I who should be thanking you, my dear."

"For sharing the tale…for not turning me away."

"I _did_ turn you away," he admitted, "and I would have done so even more fiercely had you not disarmed me quite so well." His eyes softened. "I needed this. Ilúvatar knows, I needed this. You have a way of refocusing my attention from the disaster that was my life to focusing on what actually matters. And, I find, that I am…relieved to have shared something so… _personal_." He lifted one of her hands and pressed his lips to it. "I am relieved to have shared it with you. _And_ I am glad that in spite of Tauriel's warning, you came out here to find me anyway."

Erumar gave him a look of surprise. "How do you know I was speaking to Tauriel?"

He tilted his head. "You are often in one another's confidence. But I should assume she would find you. I said…many things I never would have said had my heart and mind been in a different place."

"She will forgive you. She probably already has."

He suddenly laughed. "Oh, undoubtedly. She always does, which is far more than I deserve, and she refuses to allow me the opportunity to apologize, which makes things far too easy on me."

"She also did not tell me to avoid you," she pointed out. "In fact, she encouraged me to find you."

He nodded, not necessarily surprised that Tauriel would say such a thing, but it appeared he felt relief. This time, he enclosed her hands in his. "Just one more moment to be grateful for, I suppose." He gave a long sigh and looked into her face again, attempting to smile. "Normally, I would spend this day sulking in the garden, taking my wrath out on everyone and everything who happened to cross my path. As I planned to be in misery for the majority of the day today, and as I am not in the most despicable of moods any longer, I have no idea what I shall do with myself."

Erumar gave him a rueful smile. "You mean to tell me the ogre I met this morning will not return later in the day?"

He _did_ smile then. "If he is distracted, perhaps he will not return at all. The memories may return, but perhaps the misery shall hold off."

"I can help with the misery," she replied gently. "And provide ample distraction."

"Good. Where shall we begin?"

"Well, the sun is high now, and the hummingbirds might be out near the petunias, verbena, or even in the marigold," she said, slipping her feet to the ground as she rose, tugging him gently up. "Perhaps we can begin there, and then make our way over to that section that needed desperately to be weeded—"

"I must admit that I am fairly certain I tore most of them out this morning," he sighed, allowing her to tug him into the motion of walking. "Along with many flowers." She raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed again, helplessly. "I was not in my best mood."

"Perhaps we can spend some time _replanting_ some of those pulled-up flowers, then," she said, squeezing his hand. "Do not worry, Thranduil. We will set it right."

He moved alongside her so he could draw her hand through his arm, leaving his covering hers. "There is no doubt in my mind that you can help me do so."

* * *

Tauriel sat quietly in the sitting room of her humble quarters, debating whether to take a walk or to simply go to bed in the other room. It had not been the brightest of days, but it certainly did not count among the worst. She had spent nearly all of it out on patrol, mostly to take her mind off the day…and what Thranduil and Erumar were saying to one another. She had worried for no reason, apparently, for she had caught a glimpse of them at dinner tonight and Thranduil had been laughing. First, he would not have been laughing with _anyone_ on a day such as today, and he would never have wanted to be social enough to eat in the main hall at supper. She should not have worried.

Tauriel was startled out of her reverie by the door opening and the one she had been thinking of filling the frame. She stood, surprise on her features as both she and Thranduil bowed their heads to one another.

"My Lord," she said, and she could not control her voice enough to keep the alarm out of it. The only reason he would come here is if something serious had happened.

"I knocked," he said, opening a hand toward the door and then closing it. "I mean no offense if you feel I am barging in."

"I…must not have heard it," she said, looking confused. "I was thinking and…I must have been distracted."

"With _your_ ears?" he asked with good humor. "Shocking."

"I know," she answered honestly, looking down as if ashamed. "Is there something I can—?"

"I shall be brief so as to not distract you for long," he replied. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "I came to apologize for my appalling rudeness toward you this morning. No matter what I was feeling, I should _never_ have taken it out on you that way, with _such_ words."

"It is all right," she said softly, holding up a hand. "There is no need to apologize. I should have known; I should have remembered that—"

"No," he said firmly, "you will not make excuses for me, not for this. My words are entirely my own. I should not have said…" He hesitated, unsure he wanted to speak the words aloud again.

"My Lord," she began to interrupt, but he once again cut her off, holding up his hand.

"I never should have said that you were worthless, and that I did not need you and never would. I certainly should _never_ have spoken such a thing. I also—"

"You did not say that," she whispered.

"The interpretation is close enough to what I spoke this morning," he stated. "I was angry and miserable, but that is no excuse. I should not have told you that you were meddlesome and interfering and only seeking to harm me more by attempting to force me to talk about what had happened. That was wrong of me. If _anything_ was happening, it was that you were trying to take care of me, as you have always done."

"It…" she stuttered, hesitating. "It was _nothing_ —"

"Do not say that it was nothing," he said sternly. "Ilúvatar knows that after all these years, after everything that we have been through, we should be honest with one another. I hurt you _terribly_ by what I said." He watched her eyes flood with tears, but she did not look away. This was Tauriel; she would never back down, never hide. That was not who she was. "And what I said was wrong," he added, his voice kinder, "not only because it was inaccurate, but also because it was an outright lie. I _do_ need you, Tauriel. My horrible temper notwithstanding, there are a great many reasons for you to decide you have had enough. You never have; you have chosen to remain here instead. You are _not_ worthless, nor are you a prying meddler. You have great worth, and I would be remiss if I did not say that I am blessed to have you still in my life after everything that has happened between us." He gave a great sigh. "Can you please forgive my terrible words to you?"

She nodded, because she simply could not speak; she knew if she opened her mouth now the tears would fall and she did not know when they would stop. These moments were few and far between, but when they came they threatened to consume her.

And then he opened his arms to her and it was all over. Completely unexpected, she was overwhelmed in seconds, and it only took her that long to get to her feet and slip into his embrace. He enveloped her with warmth and held her close, setting his chin against her hair as the tears fell that she could not stop. He held her for many long minutes before he spoke.

"I am so sorry," he repeated gently.

"Sometimes I feel that way," she whispered through her tears. "Just what you said…that I am—"

"I know," he interrupted her, feeling horrible even though he had been forgiven and having no desire to hear the words he had used again. "I used those feelings against you to force you to go away. It was so wrong of me, Tauriel. I…promise that in the future I will watch my tongue."

He realized, holding her in that moment, this was only the fourth time in all of the years they had known one another that he had held her this way. He was not the sort of person that she had ever run to as he was never very open and had never wanted her to run to him; one might even say he seemed quite unfeeling. They would be wrong, of course, but he was not one to wear his emotions and in the past would have been quite unable to share anything. In more recent years, he had begun to change, and this had opened a realm of possibility. He had come to learn more about Tauriel in the last sixty years than he had known about her in the few hundred since she had come to be here.

Tauriel raised her head and began to step back out of his embrace, lifting a hand to wipe her face and stifling her tears. "Forgive me for this…for this _scene_ ," she muttered, trying to laugh at herself. "I do not know what came over me."

"My anger," he said, "and there is nothing to forgive."

"Thank you for…apologizing," she said, meeting his eyes. "You did not need to come here and do that, and I…appreciate it. Your honesty."

He smiled. "I should have learned years ago that one should seek forgiveness for badly-spoken words. Thank _you_ for forgiving me." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "You deserve better than the monster I can be at times. I will continue to work hard to improve."

" _My Lord_ …"

"I am serious," he stated. "And you should hold me to it. I hope you will say that you will." She swallowed, wiped an eye once more, and nodded. "Good. _Now_ I will allow you to return to your daydreaming or thinking or…whatever it was you were doing before I interrupted you." He released her and made it to the door before turning around.

"Oh," he added with a smile, "I almost forgot: Erumar asked me if I would invite you with her tomorrow. She was thinking of taking a ride East through the Greenwood. I cannot attend, but she said you would be most welcome if you are available."

Tauriel returned his smile with a little one of her own. "Am I available, my Lord?"

He appeared to give it some thought. "It would appear that you are, Captain. Find something useful to do with your time, will you? There is an elf that I would like you to keep an eye on for me, and I would very much prefer her to ride with company."

She bowed her head. "I happily will. Would you please tell Erumar that I would be glad to come? I will meet her at the stables then after breakfast if morning is fine."

"I will let her know. Sleep well, Tauriel."

"Good evening, my Lord."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I had waaaay too much fun writing this one-no idea why. I could just picture the two of them in my head, teasing one another...again, too much fun! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :O)

* * *

"Oh, these lilies are _lovely_ today!" exclaimed Erumar as she leaned in close to breathe them in. As some of the most colorful flowers in the garden, she and Thranduil always made it a point to walk past them in their rounds about the rows.

Thranduil stood just beside her, and of course, his gaze was not on any flower but upon her as he replied with agreement, "Yes…lovely, indeed." He often did this, and she never made any mention that she recognized he was speaking of her, never blushed or gave any other recognition. He did not know whether he should assume that she did not know, or whether he should assume that she was simply ignoring him, unwilling to play along. Still, it made him smile, and she _was_ beautiful. He loved the way her long, raven hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, reaching nearly to her waist.

Her fingers lifted one of the lily-faces to her nose as she moved from flower to flower, and he simply trailed along behind her, hands clasped behind his back, simply watching her enjoy the day. They spent many days like this when he made the time. But…he did have something on his mind.

"Shall we return to the subject at hand?" he asked, prompting her and she rolled her eyes, her face hidden from view.

" _Must_ we?"

He sighed.

"I suppose that means we must," she replied, turning to look at him.

"Or you can continue to avoid me."

She laughed, blushing. "I am certainly _not_ avoiding you! If I were, would I be here right now, walking with you, talking with you?"

He tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. "You cannot really consider talking about the lilies as talking. And this is the first time you have looked at me since this conversation began."

She waved her hand at him, turning back to begin walking again. "You are exaggerating."

"Am I?" He attempted to reach out and catch her arm, but she darted ahead two steps and he _just_ missed. " _Erumar—_ "

" _Yes_ ," she replied with another laugh. " _Exaggerating_." He did not lunge for her again, assuming that would be a bit forward and he did not wish to end up chasing her all about the garden. Instead, he simply followed her around another corner and into another row of flowers.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, a wry smile on his face, "I do not think I have ever had someone completely dismiss me as you are doing."

"I am not dismissing you," she argued gently. "I simply do not want to have the discussion you wish to have. Therefore, I am going to change the subject."

He clasped his hands behind his back again and chuckled as he watched her lean forward to admire a bush of clumpy but vibrant viburnum. "You could at least _consider_ having it with me. I can be patient."

"You may be waiting a _very_ long time. Are you _that_ patient?"

"Mmmm…I could be for the right reasons."

"This is not one of those. You are wasting your time."

Smiling, he continued, "When Tauriel mentioned that—"

"Did you know that Tauriel and I went for a swim?" she asked, suddenly turning toward him, her eyes wide and a story within them. He was so distracted by the turn of her expression and the thought of her swimming that he did not realize she had changed the subject on him and played right into her hands.

"Swimming? When was this?"

"Just yesterday, actually."

He looked suspiciously at her. "I thought you were out for a ride."

"We were," she replied, "but then Tauriel showed me a place that Legolas used to go swimming when he lived here. It was a beautiful place I would have never known was there, and was a challenge to get to." She smiled. "I was glad she was there to show me or I never would have found it."

She continued on for a little about how beautiful the place was, waterfall and all, but he found himself easily imagining...well, _fantasizing_ about her swimming in that pool. Appropriate or not, for a moment that was all he could think of, hair soaked, droplets of water on her skin… It took him a moment to realize that he was daydreaming and he wondered if his eyes had glazed over—and if she had noticed. He blinked and glanced at her, hoping she would not observe him doing so; again, either she had not detected it or she had no intention of commenting on his mental absence as she was saying something about a toad.

"—what he was doing there, but Tauriel felt poorly for him and fished him out." She laughed. "She has such a heart for the forest. But the swimming was _wonderful_. I hope we can go again soon."

He cleared his throat, shaking his head to rid himself of swimming images of _her_. "You have been out riding many times. I am surprised it took her this long to show it to you. If I recall correctly, having only been there a handful of times myself, it was quite beautiful."

"Do you know how long it has been since I was swimming? It was before I lived in Lórien," she added, surprise in her own voice. "I was thinking about it just this morning. _So_ long ago. Do you like to swim, Thranduil?"

He smiled. "I honestly do not _know_ when I swam last. I remember Glosvana and me taking Legolas when he was _very_ young to the very spot you are describing. He must have shown it to Tauriel at some moment after she came here."

She noticed that it had become, at most times, easier for him when he mentioned Glosvana in casual conversation. It had taken them months of walking and talking to get to this point, and still _she_ was usually never ready or willing to talk about Haldir. She wondered how long it would take her to finally be able to discuss him without stabbing pains assaulting her.

"Who was the better at it?"

"Oh," he laughed aloud, " _she_ was the one who taught him. I was the one who nearly drowned him. Poor boy."

She laughed, too, in surprise. "I suppose she was the better swimmer then!"

"No, on the contrary, I was. I simply was not the best teacher for him. He learned strength from me; he learned the moves from her. I think Tauriel was even better than him; she arrived with that skill already. If I am not mistaken, it saved her life when her parents were slain."

Erumar nodded. "Yes, she did mention something about that yesterday, but it was very brief. There are moments in conversation with her that I feel as though I hit a wall. Yesterday we were speaking of Legolas and after a certain point she would say no more." Erumar thought of the story she had been telling—about the first time she had followed Legolas out here, discovered where he was sneaking off to, and cut off when she realized she had embarrassed herself by telling a story where she had obviously seen him naked, infatuated with him as she had been then. Erumar could barely get two words out of her for half an hour after that. "I take it that she was definitely in love with him at one time."

Thranduil sighed. "Yes, or at least infatuated with him, as he was taken with her. And how could they not be? The two of them were similar in many ways; kindred spirits, and both quite alone. Knowing Enguina, I can be relieved that my keeping them apart did not destroy Legolas's chance for a fulfilling marriage…I can only pray that one day, Tauriel will find the same." He shrugged. "I suppose that is in Ilúvatar's hands. It is so far in the past now; it is difficult to feel guilty about it."

She slipped her arm through his, falling back and into step beside him. "As a parent, we all do foolish things that we think at the moment are best for our children. You did what you thought was right at the time."

"Yes. Right or wrong."

She nodded. "Right or wrong," she agreed.

He gave her a sideways look. "You know, I often think the same about you, from time to time."

She looked up at him. "Hmm? What do you mean?"

"You said that you were speaking to Tauriel and after a certain point within the conversation, she would say no more." There was a little glimmer in his eye as he spoke and her brain triggered a warning. "I feel the same way about you. I keep trying to ask you about—"

"Ugh," she complained, tugging her hand out of his arm and moving away from him. "You are incorrigible. And just when I thought I had been so successful…"

He laughed, and this time, he _did_ catch her arm, but it was to walk with her, not slow her down. "You were," he admitted. "You successfully distracted me for nearly ten minutes."

"It was not long enough apparently."

He chuckled at her again. "Oh come now, at least tell me a part of the story surrounding it."

She shook her head at him, lifting her chin in defiance. "No."

He sighed. "Oh, woe is me. I can discover nothing about you. I cannot draw you out of your shell to answer me anything."

"Now you are _definitely_ exaggerating," she scoffed, slipping her arm back through his. "I have answered everything you have asked—"

"Your hands?"

"Out of bounds."

"The reason you use a fork with your left hand and not your right?"

"When did you notice that?"

"How about what you were writing two months ago by the falls that you would not let me see?" he said the last as he leaned in close to her, raising his eyebrows.

She was surprised that he even remembered that, though she was not about to tell him _now_ either. "Well…I have answered except…a few minor things, I suppose."

"Mmmm."

"Do not patronize me," she said. "And honestly, there are probably just as many things _you_ will not answer for me…I just have not thought to ask them yet."

He laughed. "That is because there are very few things that I would not tell if you _were_ to ask me of them. I do not have many secrets. You, on the other hand, hide too well. Though, I am always hard at work continuing to discover you." He smiled and the two of them restarted walking again, moving out of the garden and towards the cliff edge that followed the Forest River around Lasgalen. He watched her eyes follow the falls that flowed near the bridge. "It is beautiful here, is it not?" he asked her softly as they paused at the entrance to the path that would follow along the cliff side.

She peered over the edge before continuing to walk with him, he along the edge and she farthest away. "Stunning," she said, and looked up at him. "I can think of no reason to hurry my stay."

"I hope you have found many reasons _to_ stay," he added. "Two years here is not nearly long enough to experience all Lasgalen has to offer."

She smiled. "There is really no other place that I can imagine myself at the moment."

"You could make this permanent, you know," he reminded her. "This could be your home. You could remain here forever and everyone would be delighted. Everyone speaks of your staying here. In fact," he laughed lightly, "I think everyone already assumes you will."

"I have not made up my mind yet," Erumar replied, and she could have admitted that she probably would, but did not say it. She watched as swallows flew from one side of the cliff to the other. "Most things are so peaceful here, so beautiful. I almost think it is lovelier right here than the garden."

Thranduil brought his hand to his heart. "You have gravely wounded me."

"Oh, stop that," she laughed. "There is something about the falls that stir my soul; it reminds me of home. I have always loved the water, since I was a girl. Have you ever been to Imladris?"

"No," he replied. "I have never had the privilege. After the Last Alliance, and the death of my father, I had too much to be concerned with here. I never made good on Elrond's invitation, and now, as I am to understand it, not much remains."

"Well, the falls here remind me of the water there. When I was young I would swim every day that I could, even in the winter." She laughed. "It was cold, but I would brave it."

"I can see you now," he laughed with her. "Was Arwen with you?"

"And her brothers. As I grew older I became a bit more practical, but I have never outgrown how much I love it. I remember that I could outswim any of them at any given moment. Once, Elladan was so frustrated that he nearly drowned me." She chuckled. "Arwen was not pleased with them."

"I would think not." He smiled down at her. "Did you race Tauriel across the water yesterday?"

She gave him a wicked smile. "I thought you would never ask."

He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised to see such an interesting expression on her face. "And? Did you win?"

"Oh…I _crushed_ her!" she laughed aloud, and Thranduil grinned, her joy in victory infectious.

"I wish I had been there to see it. Tauriel is fast; you must be quite amazing."

"I do not know about amazing, but I was quicker than she was. Perhaps I am part fish."

"Perhaps you are," he laughed with her. "But wherever are your fins?"

"Places a lady should not speak of," she teased, raising her eyebrows, and it was the first time she had ever seen him blush. "Oh, my goodness, King Thranduil… _embarrassed_?"

"Not at all," he said, but he glanced away, lifting his chin with feigned disdain as he attempted to make a joke of it. "It is simply too warm. I have been out here for several hours, and I am probably getting too much sun."

He had never heard her laugh so hard in all the time he had known her. If he could blush more, he would have, but that was impossible. He was blushing not only from her words now, but also from her laughter _and_ once more imagining her swimming in next-to-nothing. He tried to put that aside, but as she continued to laugh he continued to imagine, and it only grew worse and more complicated as it went on.

"Oh go ahead and laugh at me," he sulked momentarily.

"Oh, _lord_ …" she laughed, barely able to breathe, "I _am_."

He turned and gaped at her. "You _are_ cruel. Why did you never warn me?"

"I forgot how shamelessly evil I can be," she teased, trying to regain control.

"Well, it is good that I am getting to know you then. I shall have to be more careful." She laughed a little longer and he sighed. "You can refrain at any time now."

"I am _so_ sorry," she said, and he knew she was not at all.

"You are cruel," he repeated. "I will not easily forgive you."

"Oh stop," she laughed, reaching up a hand to wipe her eyes, "of course you will!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No, I will not."

"That is stubbornness talking."

"Indeed," he said, sticking his nose in the air.

"Be careful," she said, "a man who cannot laugh at himself is in danger of appearing arrogant."

"I cannot laugh at myself when you are mean."

"Mean?" she asked innocently, placing a hand on her chest. " _Me_? I am _never_ mean." She laughed again and tugged on his arm; he did not budge at all, nor lower his head. "Thranduil…" she added, dragging out his name in a sing-song voice.

He turned his head, secretly smiling and then set his chin again, shaking his head adamantly. "I will not forgive you."

"Please? Look, I will even apologize. I am sorry, Thranduil. Can you forgive me?"

He was silent for a moment and then he shook his head. "No."

"All right…what must I do to make up for making fun of you in such a _cruel_ way?" she said with a sigh.

He looked down on her, his face absolutely triumphant before she realized what he was about to say. "Well, there is one thing…"

"Ugh."

"Go on," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Answer my questions."

Her eyes narrowed. "What were they again?"

"What was it you were singing that Tauriel said was so beautiful?"

She was silent for a moment, but then she sighed, giving in. "It was a lullaby."

"Did you sing it for your children?"

"Yes."

"Will you sing it now?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I am not in the mood."

"I am," he said, a bit more serious just so she would understand that he really wanted to hear it, and he was not about to let it lie. "I think you should think about it before you say no."

She tilted her head back and forth. "I _have_ thought about it."

"And?"

"No."

He chuckled, then said, "I think you should reconsider."

"Yes well…" she replied flippantly, "life is full of disappointments. You might as well start with this one."

There was a brief pause, as though he was trying to decide whether to be offended or not, and then he suddenly burst out laughing. "By _heaven_ you are stubborn!" He shook his head as she smiled and laughed with him.

"I know, I know," she sighed. "I suppose at this point, it is only on principle." She looked up into his face. "You really _do_ want to hear it?"

" _Yes,_ " he admitted emphatically.

"Then you have to sing something afterwards."

He laughed at her. " _Heavens_ no. Singing is not something I do. _Ever_. And you are the one seeking forgiveness, not me."

She titled her head at him. "You would forgive me anyway."

He looked back at her, a slow smile forming on his lips. "Yes, of course," he replied, his voice now tender and no longer teasing. "Will you sing it, the lullaby?"

She sighed. "If you wish it."

"Please."

 _There is a song that a mother sings_

 _A child hears and it gives them wings_

 _To dream of daybreak and what it brings_

 _A vision of the meadow_

 _In spring, the field is wet with dew_

 _Each day is full of skies so blue_

 _And ev'ry flow'r has sprung up anew_

 _A vision on the meadow_

 _In summer, the newborn fawns will play_

 _Leaping with joy, why, no one can say_

 _Then slumber beside their mothers, they lay_

 _A vision in the meadow_

 _In autumn, the colorful leaves abound_

 _As sunlight fades they strike the ground_

 _The trees are filled with the robin's sound_

 _A vision in the meadow_

 _In winter, the grass is painted white_

 _Everything sleeps, quiet in life_

 _The glittering flakes are a wondrous sight_

 _A vision on the meadow_

 _May sweet thoughts be of times to come_

 _When you will wake and night is done_

 _Smile in your sleep, all good dreams be from_

 _A vision of the meadow_

When the song was done, she simply stood beside him, quiet, her eyes closed; she was not going to look at him to see his impression. He could not help but stare at her, having lived the seasons within her beautiful and moving song. She did have a lovely voice, and he was grateful to have been present to hear it and the words of her lullaby.

"It is no wonder Tauriel could not stop speaking of the loveliness of your song," he said gently. "It was beautiful, and a perfect lullaby for any child."

She bowed her head, blushing. "Thank you," she said.

"You did not wish to sing it because you were embarrassed," he said gently. "I did not mean to embarrass you in the least. It was a privilege to hear your voice." He took her hand once again in his and laced it through his arm once more. "I hope this will not be the last time I have it."

She smiled, shaking her head. "You shall have to convince me in some way, I am afraid. I do not sing often."

"What moved you to sing to Tauriel?"

She shook her head again. "I do not know. The moment, I suppose. We were in the midst of a meadow ourselves and the water falling was so soothing and…" She shrugged. "It felt right." She looked up at him as they continued walking. "And why do you not sing?"

"I do not have the voice," he answered honestly. "Singing has never been one of my gifts. Legolas received his mother's voice, praise Ilúvatar, for Enguina would _never_ wish him to sing if he sounded like me. Now, reciting poetry or a lay perhaps…that I am capable of doing."

"Oh, please do recite some poetry," she murmured, and he knew she was teasing him.

"I am not sure we know one another _quite_ well enough for me to do that yet," he teased back, laying his hand over hers.

"Perhaps on a special occasion?" she asked, her lips curling into a smile.

"On _very_ special occasions."

"Such as my birthday."

"That could be one such occasion," he agreed. "I shall have to plan all year for that."

She laughed, patting his hand. "Knowing you, Thranduil, I am sure you will."


End file.
